


What are friends for?

by Sculla



Series: Avenger one-shots [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint saves the day, Natasha can't girl properly, Tony gets things wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:16:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sculla/pseuds/Sculla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha said she had always wanted a gay friend. Clint said she needed a gay friend; she'd be helpless without him. Natasha was privately agreed that he had a point</p>
            </blockquote>





	What are friends for?

**Author's Note:**

> Idea came from (as always) the AvengerKinkmeme on livejournal:
> 
> “Natasha always wanted a gay friend.”
> 
> And considering her “giant” list of friends, it could only be one person :P

“Barton! Get your ass in here now!”

The three men who were all sitting on the couches in the lounge in front of the wide screen television turned their heads as one to the man in question whose name the Black Widow had screeched out from down the hall.

“Ooooh dear, we are in trouble.” Tony singsonged with a smirk.

Clint rolled his eyes at the billionaire’s amusement and with a heavy regretful sigh, placed the large bowl of popcorn down onto the coffee table and pushed himself to his feet; there goes the remaining of his movie watching time.

“Carry on, oh brave soldier!” Tony cried out as Clint made his way towards the hallway. “Fear not the darkness and evil, for you are strong and bold!”

The archer turned his head to shoot the man a ‘ _wtf?!_ ’ expression over his shoulder as he left the room amidst the amused chuckles of the other three men. As he headed down the hallway to Natasha’s room Clint shook his head in exasperation at Tony’s actions; Stark clearly still thought that he and Nat were an item no matter what the archer did to persuade him otherwise.

He slowed his pace and he came to Natasha’s door and he opened it slowly before poking his head around the corner to peer into the room. “You hollered?” he drawled. Natasha was sitting in front of her cherry wood vanity holding a curling iron in one hand and her makeup bag in another. She turned at the sound of Clint’s voice and with slightly narrowed eyes at the comment threw the makeup bag in his direction. Smirking, Clint ducked his head back around the corner of the door allowing the small kit to slap into the wood before falling to the floor.

“Your services are required.” Natasha ordered haughtily. Clint heard the sound of the curling iron thumping back onto the vanity and he hastily suppressed a grin at the image of Natasha scowling darkly at the tool. Even with all her considerable tools in espionage and assassination there were several things the redhead had little to no skill in whatsoever; doing up her hair into anything more elaborate than a ponytail, applying makeup perfectly and she no fashion sense whatsoever. The last of which was a well-kept secret known only to few; it couldn’t be let out that the only set of clothing the voluptuous Black Widow had picked out herself was a pair of hideous floral pants and a red shirt that clashed horribly with her hair; both things Clint had burnt the second he laid eyes on them.

Entering the room, Clint closed the door behind him, bent down to pick up the makeup bag and made his way across the room to stand behind Natasha. He lightly dropped the bag onto the vanity beside the curling iron and then glanced at Natasha’s face in the mirror. “So, what’s the haps?” he asked as he ran his blunt fingers through her messy mane whilst keeping his blue eyes locked with hers. “Sexy seductress hunting for prey? Ditzy socialite wanting to party? Naïve but oh so willing young girl drawn into the dark underworld of BDSM?”

Natasha snorted at the last and rolled her eyes even as her fingers tapped the open file on the vanity before her. “That was one time, Barton; and no, today its ‘bossy vain journalist desperate for a big break in her career’.” She explained.

“Ah, that Parker kid?” Clint asked as he nodded his head before picking up a brush and running it through the red tresses before him. Natasha hummed in agreement as she turned her eyes to the file to refresh her mind on her mission and allowed Clint to do what he wished. The archer ran the brush through her hair several more times before he started directing the strands to where he wanted them to go.

Within minutes the loose messy hair Natasha had been glaring at earlier was all pulled back from her face pinned into place with one of the several beautifully designed Asian hairpins apart from a small section that curled around her cheeks. Pursing her lips slightly in annoyance at how easily Clint managed to get the unruly stands to do what he wanted, Natasha muttered under her breath.

“You say something?” Clint asked, obviously having heard the words she mumbled but still hitting her up on it.

Natasha’s blue eyes caught his in the mirror for a second before she shot him an annoyed look and her eyes returned to the file. “Kiss my ass.” She bit out in an irritated tone; even though her lips were twisted just enough into a smile to allow Clint to see that she didn’t actually mean it.

As expected Clint laughed and tapped two fingers on her shoulder lightly. “Sorry babe, you’re not my type.”

“No I just lure your type in with my tits, feed them enough alcohol to consider homosexuality and then hand them off to you.” She retorted with a grin.

Clint’s smile softened and he bent down to rest his chin where his fingers had been seconds before. “You’re the best wingman ever.” He sighed dreamily earning a smack to the face with the file in Natasha’s hands.

“Idiot.” She muttered affectionately.

Rubbing his nose even though the blow hadn’t hurt, Clint shot her a grin before reaching out and grabbing the back of her seat and spinning her around abruptly to face him. Natasha refused to admit she let out a squeak of surprise at the action and clutched at the arms of the chair to regain her balance. She snarled at the archer and opened her mouth to let him know what she thought of his little act but was interrupted by Clint shoving the small makeup bag into her bathrobe covered chest.

“Here, hold that for me.” He stated before bending over and grabbing her chin, tilting her head from side to side while his serious blue eyes scanned her face. Natasha’s eyes narrowed but she couldn’t get out more than muffled noises from where his fingers where had mushed her lips together. Obviously having come to a decision, Clint straightened up and then moved over to where the larger makeup kit was stationed and began digging through it. A second later he let out a noise of triumph; fist wrapped around whatever it was he had been looking for.

Natasha watched silently as Clint dragged the small stool stored by the wall over and placed it in front of her before dropping onto and tugging her chair closer so that his body was framed by her legs. The archer made a come hither gesture and she leant forward tilting her face upwards in a well ingrained motion. As Clint started dapping whatever it was on her face; she assumed concealer of some kind, she was left with nothing to do but stare up at the plain white ceiling of her room. Maybe she should put something up there; she thought to herself idly, it would save of the boredom anyway. Her head was tilted from side to side as Clint applied the makeup in the efficient and skilled motions that made Natasha green with envy. Every now and then, Clint would mutter something under his breath, push to his feet and dig through the master kit and then return to her and continue applying the makeup.

“So what’s the end game?” Clint asked curiously as he directed Natasha to shut her eyes and ran the first of several shades of eye shadow across her eyelids.

“Ultimately to get Parker to join SHIELD but at the moment it’s just recon.” Natasha answered.

Clint hummed under his breath and Natasha opened one eyelid to see the archer wearing an expression of concentration as he applied the black liquid eyeliner to her other eyelid. She reclosed the eye as he leant closed and blew softly to dry the liquid to prevent smudging and copied the actions on the second. “Keep ‘em closed for thirty.” He order and Natasha’s lips twitched in amusement at the oft repeated words and started counting to thirty internally; knowing Clint would be miffed if she opened her eyes a second earlier.

“Lips.” As close as he was, Clint’s breath brushed over her face as he spoke and Natasha knew if she opened her eyes the archer’s face would only be inches from hers. Opening her mouth, the redhead parted her lips allowing Clint to start tracing them with the lip liner. She could only imagine it would be one of the dark red shades he usually chose for roles such as these. Fifteen seconds later he started with the actual colour and by time she reached thirty and opened her eyes he was lowering the lipstick and replacing its lid. She knew by now not to move until he had said so but she could feel her silk robe starting to slide over her right shoulder and she was debating on whether or not to brave the resulting tantrum or just let her friend get a face full of boob. She decided she wanted revenge for the chair spinning and stayed still; a second later the material lost its grip on her skin and gravity took over causing the silk to slip from her shoulder to halfway down her arm where it was leaning on the side of the chair.

Clint paused in his actions and after a glance at her half revealed torso he looked up at her face and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” he demanded. Natasha was sure her blue eyes were glinting in amusement as she gave a one sided shrug in reply; it was just coincidental that the action revealed even more skin. “And you call me childish.” He muttered lightly as he picked up a tissue from the box and folded it in half before placing it between her parted lips. “Blot.” He directed and Natasha obediently did as told and allowed the tissue to absorb the excess lipstick.

Clint balled up the used tissue and tossed it over his shoulder without looking and landed it in the waste basket on the other room and Natasha leaned back into the seat not bothering to fix up her robe; the archer had seen it all before, the fact that her breast and half her torso was revealed wasn’t going to embarrass a man who wasn’t even remotely interested in the female body. Clint ran his eyes critically over he face checking for any flaws and with a sigh reached out and grabbed Natasha behind her knees and tugged the chair closer; the robe slipped even further and now her creamy legs were revealed up to the top of her thighs which were half draped around the archer’s waist as he leant forward.

“Stop twisting your lips, woman.” Clint scowled resting his right hand against her thigh for balance as he raised his left and ran the edge of his thumb along the left hand corner of her mouth where her lips joined. “You always smudge it.” He growled. “ _Always.”_

It was at that exact second that the door opened admitting Tony and Steve. The pair stopped steps into the room when they took in the assassin’s obviously intimate positions. Steve made a choked noise and turned bright red before hastily making an exit from the room mumbling apologies but a slow smirk grew on Tony’s face as he leaned against the wall and leered. “Well heellloo.” He drawled. “Attempting to make baby assassins are we?”

Natasha; not pulling her face away from where Clint’s thumb was still against her lips, dug her hand into the small makeup bag still on her lap and pulled out the first thing her fingers touched; incidentally a soft brush of some kind and brandished it in the billionaire’s direction. “I can think of ten different ways in which to cause you unimaginable pain with this, Stark.” She lied. “Get.out.”

Tony held up his hands in defeat, knowing he had lost and slowly backed out of the room but not before running his eyes up and down her half naked figure once more with another leer then closing the door. Clint’s hand dropped from her face and he curled forward so that his face was pressed into Natasha’s robe covered stomach and he let out a long groan. “Now he definitely thinks we’re dating!” Clint’s wail was muffled but Natasha could still work out the words.

Natasha’s face twisted in amusement and she patted him on the back with one hand as she absently pulled her robe back into the correct position with the other. “There, there.” She said in a mocking tone.

Clint sat back up and sent her a baleful glare. “I hate you.” He mumbled.

 “I love you too, Clint.” She declared before dropping her legs to the ground, pushing her chair back and standing to move across the room where she threw open her wardrobe doors. “So what does a pushy, vain journalist wear?” she asked turning her head to look over her shoulder.

Clint had spun his stool around to face her but otherwise remained slumped on the seat and glaring at her resentfully. At her question the archer’s jaw stuck out and he refused to answer. Natasha rolled her eyes and looked back in her wardrobe; if Clint wanted to act like a petulant five year old then he could. Natasha began rummaging through the packed wardrobe and after a few frustrating seconds of indecision just started pulling out the odd outfit and holding it in front of her body as she stared at the mirror beside her. She kept the amusement from her face when Clint made a pained noise at her latest choice of a dark green dress with neon blue heels; it would only be a matter of time before Natasha’s terrible fashion sense caused the archer to take action. Sure enough, after another two suspect decisions, Clint jumped to his feet and yanked the red blouse and blue skirt out of her hands.

“What are you doing?!” he cried. “Are you trying to make Parker run for the hills?” Clint shot her a disdainful look and then dug through the wardrobe and pulled out a white blouse, a charcoal pencil skirt and a pair of red Jimmy Choo stilettos and shoved them in her direction; before moving over to her lingerie drawers and digging through it; uncaring of the fact that he was digging through a woman’s intimate clothing; and tossing her a pair of lace panties with a matching bra. “Dress.” He ordered firmly pointing a finger in her direction. “And for the love of God, do not smudge your makeup on the blouse.” He moved over to another section of the wardrobe and with a slight frown dug through the pile of handbags until a black and red Louis Vuitton bag was placed on the bed beside a charcoal dress jacket that matched the skirt.

Smirking in satisfaction; Natasha moved to do as bid and a few minutes later she was dressed immaculately in the clothes Clint had chosen for her and admiring her figure in the mirror. Picking up the handbag and jacket, Natasha beamed at Clint and crossed the room to lean forward and kiss him on the corner of his mouth; leaving a vibrant red lip print. “Thank you, darling.” She said graciously over her shoulder as she walked out of her room toward her mission.

“I still hate you, Romanov!” Clint shouted down the hallway after her. Natasha laughed and continued walking; she loved having a gay friend sometimes.

 


End file.
